Robert Rorabeck Poems

Worms from the ashes of her fingers—
In the middle of the afternoon,
My wife dreams of a beautiful island,
As all of her friends slip over her gills,
...

Wounds in the gas station,
And I have come this way before—
Looking beneath the airplanes touching
Down like falling stars,
...

Adjustments to the adventures that
No one reads—
Starting out again, going to the discount
Shop one or two blocks from
...

Opening the curtains upon
A play no one cares for—the classroom
Is discontent
Or falling asleep—
...

Cadaver that has to listen to the dogs breathe
Above it—
Who, broken hearted, howl to the moon,
Or to the floating ships
...

And then they said that there
Were planets too far away to touch—
But I am still right here,
Or lying down in bed—
...

By the time this song is gone to the
Heavens of stolen bicycles—
My dog is barking, my wife is
Almost out of the shower,
...

The song ends like this—don't you understand—
They don't open their lips again—
On their mascaraed of a parade, they go down into
The shrinking land,
...

The song ends like this—don't you understand—
They don't open their lips again—
On their mascaraed of a parade, they go down into
The shrinking land,
...

I want you again, the bottle of my empty soul,
Of my penniless art—
A few words given to an empty theatre,
Everyone else outside and enjoying
...